by Irene Hannon
Grinning, he removed her plate. “I’ll get the dessert and coffee.” “I’m not letting you off the hook this easily, you know,” she called after him as he headed for the kitchen.
“I didn’t think you would. I’m just buying myself a minute to come up with some good answers.”
He heard her laugh as he deposited the plates on the counter. In truth, though he’d had his pick of women who’d been impressed by the glamour of his profession—which was more perceived than real—there had never been anyone special in his life. He enjoyed casual dating, but he’d never been tempted to move any relationship to a more serious level. And he was always honest about that. Most women accepted whatever he was willing to offer. The ones who couldn’t broke things off.
After putting their cake and coffee on a tray he found in her cupboard, he returned to the table. Emily watched him, her chin propped in one hand.
“Where’s Coop?”
“He dropped me off and headed back to Nick’s. He’ll pick me up later.”
“You could have invited him to join us.”
“No, I couldn’t. I’m not sharing you with anyone else tonight.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“He is. And friends know when to disappear. Besides, he’s returning a favor.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he dug into his cake, surprised she hadn’t returned to the subject of his social life.
“How so? And this is delicious, by the way. You can ply me with chocolate pastry anytime.”
He chuckled. “Still a chocoholic, I see.” Spearing a bite of cake, he answered her question. “Coop and I were assigned security duty for Monica. That’s how they met. Once sparks began to fly, I tried to stay in the background.”
Her speculative expression told him she’d caught his implication that sparks were flying in their situation as well. But she ignored it. “Why did she need protection?”
Hesitating, Mark told her as much as he could. “She was the daughter of a diplomat and was targeted by an extremist group.
They ended up kidnapping her.”
“Oh.” She looked down and toyed with her cake, her expression troubled.
“And to answer your earlier question . . .” He surprised himself by bringing up his dating life again, but he wanted to erase the lines of worry that etched her features. “I date on a regular basis when I’m home. More now that Coop is married. But I’ve never had a serious relationship.”
The ploy worked. Emily lifted her chin and studied him. “Why not?”
“That’s a pretty personal question.” His teasing tone took the edge off the comment.
“Turnabout is fair play.”
“Touché.” Leaning back, he cradled his cup in his hands. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he gave her an appraising look. “I could say I’ve been carrying a torch for you all these years and no one else ever compared.”
She laughed, doing her best not to choke on her coffee.
“I’m deeply wounded by your cynicism.” He feigned a hurt expression.
“Where do you get these lines? I think I’m beginning to understand why you’ve never married.”
Smiling, he took a sip of coffee. “Okay, the truth. It’s like I told you in the park. My career doesn’t lend itself to wedded bliss.”
“It didn’t stop Coop.”
“I guess he’s better at juggling commitments than I am. Plus, he found a woman who could live with the long absences. And the risk.”
She regarded him for a moment, her expression pensive and touched with regret. Then she pushed her empty plate aside and checked her watch. “You said when you called earlier that tonight was both business and pleasure. I’ve enjoyed the pleasure part very much, but I’d hate to be responsible for keeping Coop up past his bedtime. I guess we better talk about the business.”
She hadn’t liked his answer, Mark concluded. Her retreat, though subtle, had been deliberate. For Emily, as for most women, the absences and risk inherent in his job weren’t acceptable long-term. And logic told him they would be bigger stumbling blocks for her than for most women. She’d already loved—and lost—one man in a high-risk profession.
In a way, he should be grateful for her withdrawal. He wasn’t in the market for commitments. Much as he’d once cared for Emily, there was no guarantee the old chemistry resurrected by their unexpected meeting could be sustained after the initial novelty wore off. Not that it wasn’t pleasant while it lasted. He’d like nothing better than to tuck her close beside him on the couch tonight and share some laughs as they watched a vintage movie, like the ones they’d enjoyed during a classic comedy film festival in that Tennessee summer of their youth.
Beyond that, who knew? In less than four weeks, he’d return to Quantico and she’d go back to her normal life. One that didn’t include him. It would be best to enjoy any stolen moments they had together in the midst of this craziness and expect nothing more.
Leaning forward, he folded his hands on the table and switched gears. “It’s not the policy of the FBI or the local police to provide round-the-clock security for citizens who face violent threats.
However, I’ve talked to my boss, and he’s agreed to let me and Coop, plus Nick on occasion, be available to accompany you to and from your various commitments. For the near-term, anyway.”
“Meaning the agent in the SUB—as Evelyn calls the surveillance vehicle in the parking lot—is going to disappear?”
He heard the trepidation beneath her attempt at humor. “He left when I arrived.”
When she lifted her cup of coffee, he couldn’t miss the tremor in her hand—and knew she was going to have a long, tense night.
“Why don’t you tell me what the plan is?” She took a sip and pushed the cup aside.
“Coop and I, or Nick, will accompany you to your various commitments. All you need to do is give us a schedule and we’ll be there as you move from place to place. We’d prefer you not venture out alone.”
“For how long?”
“Until we solve this, or until we can conclude with reasonable certainty that the shooter has decided not to try again. Why don’t you run me through your agenda for tomorrow? And it would be helpful if you could give us your schedule for the rest of the week ASAP.”
“On Tuesdays I arrive at the office by eight to review my cases for the day. I see my first patient at nine. Since I often catch up on paperwork at noon, it’s no hardship to stay in. I’ll take a sandwich for lunch. I see my last patient at four, and Maria leaves at five. I usually stay until about six.”
“Long day.”
She lifted one shoulder. “It’s interesting work. I don’t mind the hours. Anyway, tomorrow I need to leave early to get the dressing on my arm changed.”
“One of us will take you there too. Now let’s run over some security protocols. Nick checked out your office this afternoon.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Forewarned is forearmed. He said Maria was very helpful.”
“She would be. She worries about me way too much.”
“Someone needs to.” He went on without giving her a chance to respond. “The building isn’t very secure, Emily.”
In truth, based on Nick’s description, that was an understatement, Mark reflected. Located in the heart of Kirkwood, the small, single-story brick building that had been Emily’s professional home for the past three years housed four office suites.
Parking was in the rear, and the suites opened off a single center corridor. Other than an alarm system that could be set each night by the last occupant to exit, it was wide open.
“We’ve never needed to worry about that. It’s generally a safe part of town.”
He let her comment pass. For him, safety was always relative.
“Nick said there are two doors into your private office.”
“That’s to preserve confidentiality. My current patient can exit directly into the hall without having to go back through the waiting room and run
into the next patient. The hall door is unmarked and always locked from the inside.”
“That’s what Maria told Nick. He also talked to the landlord, who agreed to install a peephole tomorrow in both hall doors.
We need you to keep the reception room door locked too.
We’ve instructed Maria to check all visitors before opening it, and not to let anyone in she doesn’t recognize. And we want you to check the hall as patients exit your office before you open that door.”
He leaned forward, his gaze intent. “This is all predicated on the assumption that you have absolutely no reservations about any patient other than Jack Hanley. If you do, Emily, this is the time to tell me.”
“No.” Her response was immediate. “I have no qualms about any of them. And very few about Jack.”
After scrutinizing her for a few more seconds, Mark sat back.
“Okay. How about if we come by for you about 7:30?”
“If you can manage 7:15, I’ll treat you both to Starbucks.
There’s a shop near my office. And I love their vanilla lattes in the morning.”
“Sold.”
A sudden yawn caught her unawares, and she stifled it with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry about that.”
“I can take a hint.” Grinning, he stood and began to clear the table.
“Leave everything.” She rose and picked up a water glass. “The least I can do after that gourmet meal is—”
A soft tap sounded on the front door and she jerked, sloshing water on the tablecloth.
“It’s Coop.” Mark rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“I told him to come at ten.”
Moving to the door, Mark checked the peephole and pulled it open. “Give me five minutes.”
Coop stepped back into the shadows. “No problem.”
When he returned to the dining room, Emily was standing where he’d left her, the water glass still clutched in her hand. It didn’t take a genius—or a psychologist—to figure out she was scared.
He wanted to take her in his arms, assure her she would be safe. Except he could offer no such guarantees. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed where he was.
“If anything—and I mean anything—spooks you tonight, call 911. Don’t hesitate. Promise me that.”
“I will. Thank you for the fabulous dinner.”
He heard the slight catch in her too-perky voice and hesitated.
“I could sleep on the couch, Emily.”
She managed a smile. “Then Coop would have to stay too, since he’s assigned to protect you.”
“He wouldn’t mind a reprieve from the drywall dust.”
“I only have one couch. And it’s not big enough for either of you. Go home, Mark. I’ll be fine. I have good locks and a good security system. Nick said so himself.”
“Right.”
“And don’t forget, secret agent Evelyn is a knock on the wall away.”
His lips tipped up. He admired Emily’s spunk. He always had.
“Tell her to keep those knitting needles handy.”
“I’ll do that.” Setting the glass on the table, she rubbed her palms on her slacks and led the way toward the hall. “Let me show you out.”
When she reached the door, Mark’s hand closed over hers on the knob. As she turned to him in the dim foyer, looking vulnerable and in desperate need of comforting, he knew at once that touching her had been a mistake. And he wasn’t sure what he should do next.
What he wanted to do was crystal clear.
And dangerous.
Earlier in the evening, when Emily had changed the subject after he’d mentioned the risk inherent in his job, her message had resonated. She didn’t want to get involved with someone like him. And he understood that. While he might consider a brief romance, similar to the one they’d enjoyed during their Wren
Lake days, Emily’s world had been turned upside down once by loss. She wouldn’t walk away unscathed if things escalated between them.
And in all honesty, he didn’t think he would, either.
It was better to back off now. Before it was too late.
Removing his hand took every ounce of his willpower, but he managed it. “Keep the shades drawn and all the doors locked, okay?”
“I will.” She didn’t sound any steadier than he felt after that brief contact.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
And before the temptation to pull her into his arms and taste her lips became too strong, he eased the door open and slipped outside, clicking it shut behind him.
“Everything okay out here?” He turned to Coop.
“Fine. Everything okay in there?” He nodded toward Emily’s condo as he stepped out of the shadows.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve been on a lot of missions with you, and you don’t shake easily. But you look shook tonight.”
Warmth crept up his neck, and Mark turned toward the car.
“I’ll be fine.”
Coop fell into step beside him. “That’s what I said too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Monica had the same effect on me.”
For a moment, Mark considered refuting his partner’s conclusion. But in the end, he decided against it. There was no point.
Coop knew him too well.
9
“Let’s focus on lab results first. Clair, did you identify the material on the shooter’s boot?” Steve turned to the ERT technician, who sat halfway down one side of the table in the Oakdale PD conference room for the Tuesday morning briefing.
“Yes. The lab actually found two different things. Concrete and manure.”
“Is the manure from a deer?” Carl asked. “They’re taking over out here.”
“No. Based on preliminary results, it’s looking like bovine.
The sample was fresh, so there wasn’t a lot of degradation in the DNA. The lab should have a positive ID today or tomorrow.” “Interesting. Sounds like our shooter lives in or frequents a rural area. And he’s also been around wet concrete recently. It’s not much, but it’s more than we had yesterday.” Steve consulted his notebook. “We managed to track down several of the people on Christy’s list. They all check out so far. We have three more to question.” He looked at Coop and Mark. “How are you doing with the women’s shelter interviews?”
“There were nine women on our list.” Coop leaned forward.
“We talked to five of them yesterday. Four haven’t had any contact with their spouses or boyfriends since they spoke to Dr.
Lawson, and one has gone back to her husband. We’ll talk to the other four today, assuming they’re in town.”
“What about Hanley?”
“His alibi checked out,” the detective who’d been assigned to question Emily’s troubled client responded. “He was out of town with his son all weekend at a soccer camp. On Saturday morning, he was helping coach one of the teams. His story checks with all the witnesses he identified.”
“So much for that lead. Anything else we need to discuss?”
Carl directed the question to the group.
As Mark glanced around the table, there was a bit more discussion about next steps, but the options were limited. Three days into the investigation, most of the leads had been dead ends, and no new evidence had surfaced. The case was chilling as fast as his skin had years ago after a springtime plunge into icy Wren Lake.
“We’ll schedule another briefing if anything substantive breaks. In the meantime, stay in touch by phone.” Carl rose and gathered up his notes.
As the meeting broke up, Steve joined Mark and Coop in one corner of the conference room. “How’s Dr. Lawson doing?”
“Okay. She went back to work today. Coop and I escorted her and laid out some ground rules for the next few days.” Mark raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head in frustration.
“We’re nowhere with this.”
“The shooter didn’t leave us muc
h to work with,” Steve concurred. “He wears a size eleven shoe, drives a midsize car, and has a passing acquaintance with cows and cement.” Coop stuck one hand in his pocket and propped a shoulder against the wall. “We also know he’s careful. He doesn’t want us to find him.”
“And we may not, unless he made a mistake we haven’t found yet. Or tries again,” Steve noted.
Sitting around waiting for the latter possibility held no appeal for Mark. “What do you think about releasing some additional information to the press? I know we didn’t get any leads from the initial coverage, but maybe someone will see it who missed the original story.”
“It might be worth a shot. Let me run it by Carl and see what he thinks. I’ll be in touch.”
As Steve headed across the room to talk with the detective captain, Coop turned to Mark. “Let’s go check out the rest of the Hope House contacts.”
At the knock on her door, Emily looked up from the patient file on her desk. “Come in.”
A moment later, Maria’s head appeared around the office door. “You are alone, yes?”
“Yes. Mr. Barlow left a few minutes ago.” She checked her watch. “Why are you still here? I thought you had to pick up Carlos early from school today.”
“Sí, I know. But I do not like to leave you here alone.”
“I have locks on all the doors. And peepholes now, too, thanks to Nick. Mark and Coop will be here soon. I promise not to open my door to strangers before then.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes. Go. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“I am glad you have no morning office hours on Wednesday.
This way, you can sleep in.”
“Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. Now go get Carlos.”
“Okay. After I finish one letter.”
A few minutes later, when Emily heard the muted sound of a male voice through her thick door, she assumed Mark and Coop had arrived to escort her to the doctor. Locking the patient file in her desk drawer, she rose, glad to call it a day. In the past hour her arm had begun to throb, and exhaustion had sapped her energy. After she got her dressing changed, her agenda for the remainder of the day was simple: take a warm bath, eat a light dinner, go to bed. And the sooner the better.